


All Of Life's A Choice

by Lostinfantasies38



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Bisexual Connor Murphy (Dear Evan Hansen), Bisexual Evan Hansen, Boys In Love, Don't worry it's not permanent, Explicit Language, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, French dialoge in my fic?, Happy Ending, I swear, In a manner of speaking, Literary Quotes, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, Quick Burn That Fucking Explodes, Romance, Soft Boys, discussion of suicide, graphic description of suicide, more likely than you think, vampire!Connor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:08:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27011020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lostinfantasies38/pseuds/Lostinfantasies38
Summary: They say life is what you make of it and if that's the case, Evan's only made a mess.Eighteen months after The Connor Project fell apart, he is trying to come to grips with his past mistakes. Though he still lives with regret, which is only exacerbated by the random sightings of Connor around town.Tonight all of that will change, but not in any way Evan could possibly have imagined.
Relationships: Evan Hansen/Connor Murphy
Comments: 17
Kudos: 42





	All Of Life's A Choice

**Author's Note:**

> At the end of the fic when you reach the French text, hover your cursor over it for a translation! I hope you all enjoy my take on the classic vampire trope! xoxo

* * *

Evan sighed wearily when he entered the dark house he shared with his mother. After a full shift in retail hell, he appreciated that he didn’t have to carry a conversation since she wasn’t home, but he simultaneously resented her absence. Following the disastrous Connor Project and the subsequent fallout with the Murphy's, Heidi promised she would make an effort to be available. Yet, like so many things she vowed in the past, it was forgotten.

Like him.

Of course, there was no one to blame for his situation, but himself. Evan knew it. He lived with guilt like a ball and chain, threatening to drag him to the bowels of the earth, smothering under thousands of miles of rock, fried to a crisp by the molten core. And he deserved it. Maybe one day he could forgive himself, but it wasn’t today.

Trudging up the stairs, he ruminated on the boy he pretended had been his best friend. Evan hadn’t known Connor - every story he told was a lie. An elaborate fabrication so compounded with regret for lying in the first place and never taking the time to get to know the _real_ Connor Murphy while he lived, that he started hallucinating him; his conscience projecting his remorse onto the tall, brooding teen.

And even now, a year and a half after the balloon popped, he swore he caught flashes of Connor. Standing like a statue as crowds milled wildly around him, hoodies darting around corners and booted steps behind him when he walked home from the bus stop at night. One time, quite recently, Connor lounged in the coffee shop Evan frequented wearing a pair of Ray-Bans and a smirk, huffing a nearly inaudible laugh while Evan gaped at him. But he blinked, and the apparition disappeared - no indentation on the leather settee, no scuff marks on the floor, no Connor.

Because Connor Murphy was dead. Lonely and broken, he killed himself in the park, body found late the next morning. His family hadn’t even reported him missing; used to his random disappearing acts under the delusion that he acted out for attention. But his final cry for help went unanswered, and at seventeen he embraced the grave.

None of Evan’s lies or crushing guilt could change the facts.

Evan and Connor were never friends, though God knows how they aimlessly circled one another when they’d gone to school together since kindergarten. If it were possible to go back in time and re-do any moment in his life, he wouldn’t have written that letter in the computer lab, and he’d have befriended Connor. Not for Zoe, but because he genuinely regretted not knowing him. In another life, they would have been good friends, and the realization left Evan hollow.

Slipping into his room, he closed the door and sagged against the wood. “I’m so sorry, Connor,” he whispered in the silvered gloom.

He startled violently when a deep chuckle answered, and a shape materialized from the shadows. A form he knew well: tall and lean with a predatory stride and a haughty smirk, but the voice was not the same as his auditory hallucinations. It was too rich - velvety and warm, though still somewhat mocking.

“For what exactly, Hansen? Pretending we were friends and living off the high of being the dead kid’s buddy?” Connor’s white teeth flashed in the dim light and Evan’s brain screamed _danger, danger, danger!_

“You’re not real,” he whimpered, scrambling for the doorknob. Before he could blink, Evan’s back was pinned against the wood, Connor’s icy fingers tight around his throat and lifting him off the ground to bring them face to face. He struggled to free himself, but Connor pressed his other forearm against Evan’s chest to hold him in place. He gasped in surprise with the crushing press of a fifty-pound free weight deflating his lungs while the grip on his airway kept him from refilling them. The sheer strength in Connor’s wiry body astounded and terrified him.

“Real enough for you, Hansen?” Connor growled, staring at him with deadly intensity through an inky curtain of hair.

Black spots danced in Evan’s vision, and he tapped Connor’s hand frantically. “Can’t… breathe… I -”

Connor’s lip curled derisively, though he released his throat, keeping him upright with his other arm. “Why should I let you suck oxygen after what you did?”

“I can explain Connor, p-please.”

“Why? I already know you’re full of shit, Hansen. You should know, you’re a fucking terrible liar. I have no idea how your mom believes a word that comes out of your mouth. I could never trust you,” he snarled.

Gritting his teeth, Connor tried to calm himself and think rationally. This wasn’t how he planned this meeting to go, but Evan’s attempt to run royally pissed him off. Damn, it probably set off his hunting instincts which always screwed with his head. He needed to get his shit together, _right fucking now_ , because he did trust Evan - it was the whole reason he was here.

Evan fell limp in Connor’s hold, using what oxygen he had left to rasp, “Deserve... truth.”

The irrational anger snarling within him settled with the promise to hear Evan’s side of the story and fill in the gaps of his knowledge. Slowly, he eased the weight on his chest so Evan could suck in a few ragged breaths.

“Talk,” Connor ordered.

Wheezing, Evan wet his lips, distantly registering the way Connor’s eyes tracked the movement. “I never meant for any of it to happen. My letter was in your pocket and everyone thought it was yours. No one listened to me when I tried to explain. Your mom saw your name on my cast and immediately decided we were best friends. I couldn’t change their minds.”

Connor’s gaze flicked briefly to Evan’s left arm where the cast that once bore his name like a goddamn “property of” declaration used to reside. Wincing internally, he had to admit it would be difficult to explain their horrible interaction at school, and Evan’s mental health struggles to his grieving parents.

“You didn’t have to make up shit, though, and you didn’t have to seduce my sister,” he snapped, fingers returning and clenching slightly around his throat. Evan’s crush on Zoe was a sore spot for him. Usually, Connor could ignore it, but standing this close to him and talking about that fucking note rubbed salt in the wound. Connor barely suppressed a shiver when Evan swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing against his palm.

“I shouldn’t have lied, you’re right, but I panicked.” Evan closed his eyes to stem the tears, but they slipped out anyway. “I felt guilty… for not chasing you down, for writing the damn letter in the first place. I felt like I owed you to give them nice things to remember about you. I’m sorry,” he whispered.

Opening his eyes, he found Connor’s piercing blue already staring at him. Evan’s heart lurched violently in his chest when he noticed the brown patch in his right eye, a unique feature not captured in the pictures decorating the Murphy’s house. A private island amid stormy seas appreciated by a select few.

“And Zoe?” Connor pressed, choking down the vulnerability threatening to creep into his tone.

Breathing deeply, Evan licked his lips again, this time fully aware of Connor’s interest. “I liked the idea of her, but in reality, we have nothing in common. She’s sweet and kind and fun, but I was just a way to get close to the brother she missed. I kissed her one time - that was all. There was never any seduction, I swear, but I did hurt her and I’ll never stop feeling bad about it.”

They held one another’s gaze for a few beats in the quiet; Evan’s pleading and hopeful the other teen read the truth in them. Connor’s intense and scrutinizing, checking for any hint of falsehood in Evan’s claims.

Nodding curtly to hide his relief, Connor lowered him to the floor and released his hold on Evan’s neck, but didn’t move out of his space. Evan rubbed his throat with a grimace, though he wisely didn’t comment on Connor’s aggression.

“Do you want to sit?” Evan asked hesitantly, jerking his chin toward the bed. Connor swept backward, the hint of a smirk playing on his lips, but he said nothing as he settled on the bed.

Leaning against the wall next to Connor, Evan studied his guest intently. Connor returned his frank stare with a bland one of his own, unfazed by Evan’s blatant curiosity. He hadn’t aged a day in the two years since he slit his wrists in the park, leaving the grass stained a muddy brown for weeks, shockingly out of place with the rest of the greenery. When winter finally buried the spot under several inches of snow, the townspeople breathed a collective sigh of relief - his last act of defiance in the world hidden, along with their shame.

Spinning a ring on his hand, Connor broke the oppressive silence. “I know you’re _dying_ to ask, Hansen. Just do it already and end the suspense, for fuck’s sake.”

“How are you not dead?” Evan blurted, unable to help himself once granted permission. “I went to the funeral. It was open casket, and you were… not alive.”

Grinning wolfishly, he replied, “I’m still not alive. Not really.”

Evan slammed his head against the wall and scrubbed his hands along his face. “I knew it. I fucking _knew_ it! I’m hallucinating again. Proof I’ve officially cracked. How many times in your life can you have conversations with a dead person before they lock you up and throw away the key?”

Snickering, Connor quipped, “Why? Are you asking for a _friend?_ ”

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, asshole. I’m the one who’s lost his damn mind,” Evan snapped irritably.

Arching a brow, Connor asked, “Wait… you’ve hallucinated _me_ before?”

“Yes, you know this. You lived in my head for six months telling me what a dick I was…” Evan paused when Connor’s eyes widened fractionally with the information. Scrambling up the bed to the headboard, he ogled the tall teen in horror.

“Holy shit! Oh my God, you’re really here… fucking hell. I’m not imagining this. You’re… Connor! You’re _here_ , ohmyfuckingGod!”

Connor tossed him a jaunty two-finger salute. “Yep. Really here, Hansen. Sitting in your room, discussing how you used to talk to fake-Connor in your head. And I thought I was fucked up.”

Evan huffed incredulously at the ridiculous turn in the conversation. There were a few logical explanations for this situation.

One: this was a vivid, bordering on lucid dream, and he’d wake up in the morning feeling incredibly stupid talking to his pretend-best friend again.

Two: he was drunk or high, though he couldn’t explain how either of those things happened; but it still made more sense than the next idea.

Three: he’d somehow walked into an alternate dimension or liminal space where Connor was alive. Highly unlikely, but then again, he wasn’t well-versed enough in string theory to completely rule it out.

Fourth: Evan was dead, and this was the afterlife. This one made the most sense. It was totally plausible two dead boys with baggage would sit and hash things out before they “moved on” or whatever the fuck dead people did.

He couldn’t remember the moment of his demise, so he assumed it hadn’t been a suicide attempt or a homicide. Probably hit by a bus walking home - quick, painless, stupid. His neighborhood petitioned the city every year for more sidewalks, but they never got them. Maybe his death would change that and his idiotic ending wouldn’t be meaningless.

Connor rolled his eyes like he could read his mind (further evidence this was happening in his head) and unzipped his hoodie with a sigh. Evan opened his mouth to ask what he was doing, but Connor’s warning glare stopped him. Nostrils flaring in annoyance, the black-clad teen peeled off his metaphorical armor and scooted closer to Evan. Furrowing his brow in confusion, Evan glanced down when Connor extended his arms, rolling them over to reveal perfectly smooth skin.

Evan gasped and hesitantly reached out, pausing before he touched him, asking silent permission with his eyes. Connor nodded brusquely, sucking in a strangled breath when warm fingers seared his icy flesh. More shocking than the difference in temperature was the reverence in his light grazes - tracing where canyons once gouged through muscle and tendons to rip open his veins. He choked when Evan brushed horizontal slashes across his arms, though he’d never seen them to confirm their existence.

In answer to the unspoken demand of how Evan was aware of such a guarded secret, the other boy took Connor’s hands in his own and ran the tips of his fingers across his thighs in slicing motions. Connor’s gaze immediately flicked to Evan’s, his hands unconsciously tightening around his muscular legs.

Connor suddenly understood how his family overlooked the warning signs he thought he left like breadcrumbs. Could you ever truly know a person adept in the art of keeping secrets? Used to shielding their delicate heart from injury and pushing everyone away after years of being tossed aside whenever they reached out?

All this time, he assumed Evan escaped the worst of life, believing the Connor Project a blip in his life’s radar. Embarrassing and heartbreaking, yes, but it wouldn’t follow him forever. Shedding his past like snakeskin, Evan would emerge fresh and ready to take on the world. Now, though, Connor’s soul bled for the boy who shared his dangerously unhealthy coping mechanisms.

“Don’t,” Connor rasped in the tense silence, stomach knotting uncomfortably in the wake of Evan’s unspoken confession.

“You know as well as I do, that’s easier said than done,” Evan whispered. “But for _you_ , I’ll try.” The stranglehold of his intestines relaxed with Evan’s personal promise, a dulcet chime resonating in his brain with the implication. He opened his mouth to demand he keep his word, like a fucking hypocrite, but Evan interrupted him.

“You still haven’t explained anything.”

Rocking on his heels, Connor’s hands slid off his thighs and Evan itched to thread them with his to stay grounded. Real or not, his touch was comforting. Which was definitely screwed up, considering moments ago Connor hoisted him like a rag doll. Though Evan deserved it after everything he did, but now they'd cleared the air between them and he appreciated the contact. More than he probably should, to be honest.

Connor noticed the subtle twitch of Evan’s fingers but didn’t bring attention to it. “It’s going to sound insane, Hansen.”

Blowing out an exasperated breath, Evan crossed his arms. “Try me. I am the definition of insane. We’ve confirmed you’re actually sitting here, so just say it and end the suspense for fuck’s sake,” he parroted with a smug smirk.

Connor barked a laugh. “Sassy little shit, aren’t you? I approve.” He grinned when Evan blushed. “Alright, I’ll tell you, but you have to promise not to run screaming when I do.”

Crossing his finger over his heart, Evan patiently held his gaze. Exhaling raggedly, Connor fiddled with a loose thread on the comforter and told his story in a hushed tone.

“Middle of the night on the first day of school. I was dying in the park. Blood pumping out of me; hot and sticky and _Jesus_ , it hurt like fucking hell, but I believed I deserved to die in pain. Atonement for how I treated my family and generally everyone, including you. I didn’t even really apologize that day in the lab, and then I freaked out on you again.”

A hand crept toward him, giving Connor plenty of time to reject the offer of comfort, but he closed the gap willingly and laced their fingers together with a shaky breath. “I remember crying because I regretted it. I was gonna die alone and never get a chance to fix everything.”

“Oh, Connor,” Evan murmured through his tears.

Clinging to Evan like a lifeline, he cleared his throat and continued. “My vision was going dark and I couldn’t feel anything. I was minutes away from it all being over when a man approached me, like, _materialized_ out of the shadows because I swear the park was empty. My ‘stranger danger’ alarm bells were blaring, but I couldn’t fucking move. I remember thinking, ‘Shit, dude’s probably into necrophilia or something.’ But what the hell was I gonna do about it?” Evan choked in horror, but Connor allayed his fears with a faint uptick of his lips.

“He knelt beside me and asked me a question. ‘Do you want to die?’ I shook my head, and he smiled. Then he sliced open his wrist with his teeth and dribbled his blood in my mouth. I was too far gone to protest. It felt like fucking battery acid, scalding everything it touched on the way down. The guy patted my face and said, ‘I’ll see you when you wake up.’ And then I slept for five days, according to Ambrosius.”

Mentally calculating, Evan mumbled, “The day after your funeral.”

“Yep. That was a lucky break. No one noticed when I clawed my way out in the cemetery since the plot was fresh. Plus, Ambrosius has centuries of practice covering his tracks.”

Evan swallowed hard. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” Connor pressed Evan’s free hand to his neck, chuckling when the other boy swore colorfully at the lack of a pulse. “Oh my God, I thought they were a myth.”

Connor grinned, swiping his tongue over his slightly elongated canines purposefully. “Nope, we exist. Carefully maintaining a low profile, but we’re there.”

“Why did you come back? Everyone thinks you’re dead. What if someone sees you?” Evan asked, panic fluttering in his sternum with irrational concern for Connor’s safety.

Ocean eyes flashed mischievously. “Like you, you mean? You believed I was a figment of your imagination. You never chased after me and I always fucked off before you got suspicious.”

Exhaling the tension twining around his heart, Evan nodded absently. “You _have_ been stalking me. I thought I made it all up.” Leveling him with a heavy stare, he queried, “Why? Why me?”

Tilting his head, Connor replied, “Because you kept people from forgetting me. Even though it wasn’t really me, their perception of me changed overnight from ‘school shooter’ to ‘misunderstood loner,’ which _was_ true. I wasn’t planning on ever coming back, but when the project went viral, I got curious. Ambrosius wasn’t happy. He warned me about the dangers of visiting my hometown before everyone I knew died, but I had to risk it. I had to see it for myself.”

Evan blushed at the mention of The Connor Project. “It wasn’t my idea, y’know? The project? It was Alana’s, but I didn’t feel like I could say no since I was supposed to be your best friend -”

“Yeah, I know. Even streaming on social media, it had Beck’s fingerprints all over it.” Evan sighed in relief and a strange lightness settled behind Connor’s ribs.

_I’m so sorry, Connor. Deserve… truth. I felt guilty… for not chasing you down. I felt like I owed you. But for you, I’ll try._

The words echoed in Connor’s head, attempting to resurrect his dead heart. While it would never beat again, his soul and emotions still lived. Were he fully alive, he knew it would have tripped over itself in response to Evan’s serene smile and bright blue eyes.

“Thanks for trusting me, Connor. I’m really glad you aren’t dead and that I could finally explain what happened.” Evan shifted anxiously, worrying his lip between his teeth. “I know… it doesn’t fix the mess I made, but at least you understand how it happened.” Connor merely nodded.

“So, um, can I ask you questions about it?” Evan asked. Connor’s lips twitched in minor amusement and he took it for the acceptance it was.

“I’ve seen you in daylight and you don’t sparkle or turn to dust, so I’m guessing that’s fake,” Evan teased, gratified by Connor’s soft huff at the Twilight jibe. “But what about, like, shapeshifting?”

It wasn't the question he’d been expecting, and he blinked at Evan in surprise. “Uh, no. Wait, I mean, yes,” Connor stammered, trying to organize his scattered thoughts. “Sorry, your question kinda threw me.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Evan murmured, ducking his head in embarrassment.

“No!” Connor exclaimed, startling them both. God, if he had fresh blood in him it would all be rushing to his face. Clearing his throat, he continued quietly, “It’s not a bad thing. I just… expected you to ask about...” He flicked his tongue across a sharp canine and Evan’s expression cleared.

“I didn’t want to seem rude. I know what you have to do and I’m not, like, judging you. You can’t change it and you’re alive, which is more important than how you _stay_ that way.”

Connor’s mouth fell slack, rendered speechless by the teen he remembered as an anxious disaster, telling him that drinking blood to live was better than a world where he was dead.

“Shit, Hansen,” he croaked. “I… fuck. I don’t know what to say. That’s probably the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

Evan gaped at him, a myriad of emotions too numerous to name flitting across his features. Had no one ever told Connor how brilliant he was? Did they only see the chaos wrought by his unmanaged mental illness? He’d read Connor’s literature essays, shoved angrily in his desk, every one with astonishingly high marks along with his 1490 SAT scores. The packet of test results defaced with a single word in stark black marker: FAILURE.

_Jesus._

Connor probably never showed his family his test scores, believing they weren’t good enough because _he_ wasn’t good enough. And the Murphy’s likely didn’t do much to change his mind. _God._ The burst of blinding pain in his chest felt like a serrated knife through the ribs. Reeling, Evan choked on the words stuck in his craw.

“I mean it, Connor,” he insisted. Squeezing the slender fingers twined with his, he stomped on the burgeoning disappointment in his gut. Those words didn’t convey a fraction of what he wished.

Connor’s attention zeroed in on Evan’s body heat leaching into his marrow through their linked hands. Following his gaze, Evan blushed and tried to release him, but Connor held tight and shook his head.

“Don’t,” he whispered. Evan froze, warily making eye contact. His breath hitched under the intensity of Connor’s stare and warmth bloomed in his gut, dulling the pain in his chest to an ache.

Leaning close, Connor murmured, “I’m going to try something. If you want me to stop, tell me now.”

Evan saw deep blue eyes dip to his lips, and he licked them avidly, fascinated by the dilation of Connor’s pupils.

“I don’t want you to stop,” Evan whispered.

“Good,” Connor said before their mouths met.

It was slow and uncertain, but it seared Connor to the core. Reigniting a spark he thought lost with the death of his humanity. But no, it was here all along in the sweetness of Evan’s lips, the brush of soft skin under his palms, and the tender slide of fingers carding his hair.

“Connor,” Evan sighed into his mouth. He shuddered with the way Evan caressed his name. Breathy and wanton, the syllables stretched like taffy, lingering on his tongue like he never wanted to let it go. “I’ve wanted -”

Evan’s voice trailed away, recalling the months of imagined friendship, which though fake didn’t mean he wanted it any less. Then, as Evan brokered an uneasy peace with his mistakes, Connor reappeared - observing him, studying him, following him. Discovering those stolen moments were real and not projections of his loneliness gave Evan hope he wasn’t the only one longing for this. Even knowing Connor’s mythic secret, he wasn’t frightened. He should be terrified of the Nightstalker pressing him into the mattress, but he was incapable of seeing Connor as a monster - even when he technically was one.

He moaned shamelessly when Connor bit his bottom lip, careful not to draw blood. “I’ve wanted this too, Evan,” Connor whispered huskily. “It's why I kept my distance for so long. I don’t have much self-control around you, obviously.”

“I’m not complaining,” he quipped breathlessly. Connor snorted, but his expression morphed into a scowl at the sight of the bruises ringing Evan’s throat. Resting his fingertips over the lavender smudges, he cursed himself under his breath, but Evan shook his head.

“Don’t beat yourself up over it. It’s not a -”

“Shut up. I’m not gonna let you finish that sentence,” Connor growled. Closing his eyes, he murmured, “I shouldn’t have attacked you. I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”

Cupping his face in his hands, Evan thumbed his prominent cheekbones, drinking in his otherworldly beauty. Connor had always been gorgeous, but in his new form, he was _stunning._ Carved from a flawless block of marble smoothing out his prior imperfections, hypnotic whirlpools framed by long lashes, and a set of petal pink lips just shy of severe.

Breathtaking. Magnificent. _Ethereal_.

“Hey.” Evan smiled when Connor opened his eyes. “I accept your apology. You accepted mine. We’re even, okay?”

Memories of years terrorizing his family, day in and day out, flooded Connor’s brain - screaming himself hoarse, punching walls, throwing chairs, and kicking doors. A house of traumatized refugees distanced by war, tiptoeing through the minefields of their splintered life, handling him with the fragility of a bomb. In an instant, he leapt off Evan and melted into the shadows.

“No, we’ll never be even. I’m a freak with anger problems and trust issues backed by superhuman strength. I’ll hurt you and if I did that, you’d have to put me down because I couldn’t live with myself for eternity knowing I caused you pain.”

Rolling off the bed, Evan fearlessly sought him out, hunting the corners and the closet with determination. Connor amplified his voice to hide his position and closed his eyes so the whites wouldn’t give him away. He almost flitted across the room when Evan neared his perch, but he respected the boy’s bravery, deciding on a whim to stay.

“You let me win,” Evan playfully accused when Connor dropped the cloak of shadows, revealing his cross-legged position on top of Evan’s desk.

Chuckling quietly, Connor retorted, “You’d never have found me if I hadn’t.”

Tilting his head curiously, he asked, “Part of your new skills?”

Eyes twinkling with mischief, Connor smirked. “Watch.”

Without moving a muscle, he called the shadows close, veiling himself under a cover of darkness. Evan startled slightly when he blinked; visible one second, invisible the next. Hesitantly, he reached for him and gasped when the edges shifted; altering his depth perception and skillfully evading his touch so he couldn’t find the creature nestled within.

“Holy shit,” Evan gushed. “That’s fucking amazing. Would it work with me?” Realizing what he said, Evan backtracked while Connor struggled to get his brain firing on all cylinders. “Shit, I didn’t mean… just forget I -”

Recovering from his momentary short-circuit, Connor parted the curtain with a grin and beckoned him in invitation. Biting his lip to hide his smile, Evan hopped onto the desk and straddled his lap.

The heady scent of arousal flooded Connor’s sensitive nose, overtaking Evan’s naturally sweet fragrance. The rapid beat of his human heart pounded a rhythm older than the first vampire - it was desire, want, _need -_ calling Connor like a siren. He wanted to claim Evan, mark him, _change_ him. Keep him forever.

Stamping down his base urges, Connor wrapped his arms around him to hold him steady, since he had no clue how this would affect him. “Be still. I’ve never done this with a human and I don’t know what will happen,” Connor said.

“I trust you,” Evan stated.

It was a simple statement and it spoke volumes about Evan’s unwavering faith in him. Most people wouldn’t bat an eye to such an assertion, but the foundation of Connor’s world cracked, leaving him scrambling for purchase as it shifted beneath his feet. Evan smiled softly, and the understanding reflected in bright blue eyes re-centered him.

Neither of them was used to being seen, but this was more than that. Their connection was innate, a preternatural ability to recognize what the other was thinking or feeling and offer a smile or a hand to hold in support. It was equally thrilling and discomforting.

He watched Evan’s features light up as the shadows undulated across his skin, accepting him as one of their own. Shrouding his face in the darkness where it was easier to be vulnerable, Connor asked, “How can you trust me? You don’t even know me.”

Peering where he believed Connor’s eyes were, Evan replied, “I don’t know you as well as I would like, but I know you. Your favorite book is Catcher in the Rye and you had three copies - one for your bag, one for your car, one for your room. I’ve seen your personal collection of books with everything from Byron to Vonnegut. Entire poems by Rupi Kaur and Samantha King Holmes highlighted with comments in the margins. I’ve spent hours staring in awe at your sketches and paintings, wondering how anyone could call a person who saw infinite beauty in the world a freak.”

Evan shivered when the shadows fell away, though whether from the kiss of night as it receded or the stunned expression on Connor’s face, he couldn’t say. Without giving the other boy a chance to regain his composure and respond, Evan barreled on.

“For two years, I’ve regretted not being your friend and telling you how fucking amazing you are. I saw pieces of you when it was too late, but your soul captivated me. I wanted to know you so much I _ached_. I cried myself to sleep, wishing I chased after you and gave you a reason to stay. Since I missed my chance to know you, I wanted the world to remember your name - because to me, Connor Murphy, you are unforgettable.”

Lips crashed against his, and Evan moaned happily into the embrace. Licking into his mouth with hunger, Connor feasted on the words, got drunk on the passion pouring out of the beautiful blonde in his lap. If someone had said anything a quarter as sincere to him two years ago, he probably wouldn’t have gone through with his plan. He just wanted to be _seen_ and accepted for who he was, not how the world perceived him. And Evan - _Jesus Christ_ , how starved for affection was _he_ that he fell for Connor when he thought he was six feet under?

Separating with a gasp to fill his lungs, Evan clung to Connor, still fearful he was a figment of his imagination fated to disappear into the ether. Cool fingers raked gently through his short hair and he leaned into the touch, grateful for the physical reminder this wasn't a dream.

“Jesus, Evan, I wish we’d been friends, too,” Connor admitted hoarsely. “I wanted to talk to you so many times over the years. You were always so bright under your anxiety - a fucking ray of sunshine in that goddamn hell hole that I actively sought on bad days. All I needed was a glimpse of your shy smile or the tail end of your laughter to feel lighter, _freer._ Nothing else did that for me, except you.”

Evan stared at him, too dumbfounded with the discovery that Connor _knew_ of his existence for years. My God, how different would things be if one of them had plucked up the courage to say something at any point during their thirteen-year school career? They didn’t have to wait until their senior year, using his plaster arm as an icebreaker. More astonishing though was not that Connor had been aware of him, but that he _cared_ about him, _gravitated_ to him for balance when he was unsteady. The revelation that such an exquisitely complex being held him in high esteem flooded Evan with affection.

“But I was sure I’d scare you away,” Connor continued. “And of course, in the lab that’s exactly what I did, and it felt inevitable, y’know? Like the universe was saying, ‘You don’t deserve his light. Your touch will ruin him.’ So, I made a choice, and I ran away from the only thing that ever mattered to me.”

Sighing in frustration, he traced Evan’s jawline with his thumb before resting it under his bottom lip. “I don’t know why I attacked you tonight or said I didn’t trust you. I _do_ trust you, Evan. I wouldn’t have come to you and told you the truth if I didn’t.”

Closing his eyes, Connor swallowed hard. “But it’s time for me to leave. I’ve been here too long, and every day is a risk.”

Evan’s heart sank. Of course, Connor had to go; he couldn’t stay here forever, in the town where he was dead. Besides, regardless of how they felt, Evan was human and Connor wasn’t. It would never work, and it was stupid to believe anything different. Nodding curtly, he blinked back heartbroken tears.

“I understand,” Evan croaked.

Tilting his crestfallen face to meet his gaze, Connor smiled softly. “Do you, Evan? I didn’t come here just to say goodbye. I came here to ask if you’ll come with me.”

His breath caught in his throat, words momentarily failing him. “You… you want me? To come with you?” Evan finally stammered.

Rolling his eyes affectionately, Connor pressed a chaste kiss to his lips. “Yes, you handsome idiot.”

“Handsome, huh?” Evan teased, blushing furiously.

Clicking his tongue, Connor replied, “You would focus on that, while I’m stuck on the ‘idiot’ part.”

“Yeah, keep telling yourself that. We both know you’ll never believe it.” Evan laughed brightly, a joyous sound that seeped into the cracks of Connor’s soul. Evan was the balm he’d craved most of his mortal life, and now that he had him, he didn’t plan to go through eternity without him by his side. Except it wasn’t his call to make.

“Evan, I… fuck, I don’t know how to ask you this,” Connor said, anxiously nibbling on his lip.

Catching on to Connor’s concern, he shook his head fondly. Pressing their foreheads together, Evan murmured, “Do you really think, after everything I said, that I want less than forever with you, Connor? I don’t want to stay human and grow old without you and then die to leave you on your own. I won’t do that to you or to me. I think after everything we’ve been through, we’re allowed to be a little selfish, aren’t we?”

“Fuck yeah, we are,” Connor whispered, eyes alight with awe.

Patting Evan’s hip, they unknotted themselves and slid off the desk. Connor snorted in amusement when Evan groaned and worked out his stiff joints from their awkward position. Tossing him a half-hearted glare, he groused, “Okay, see, becoming a vampire is already appealing. No more sore muscles and disappearing into shadows is a thing. What else can we do?”

Connor heard the “we” loud and clear - a tacit assurance that Evan was committed to the course. He wanted this as much as Connor, which delighted him. Shooting the blonde a cocky smirk, he replied, “We can deflect people’s attention from ourselves in crowds, speed up or slow the perception of time -”

“Whoa!” Evan interrupted. “Is that how you stood still and people kept moving around you, but _I_ could see you? It looked like some kind of blur effect with you as the focal point.”

Chuckling with the apt description, Connor nodded. “Yeah. We can’t control time, obviously, but think Jedi mind trick. We can alter how people _view_ the world around them and mask our ‘otherness’ to keep from raising any red flags. Like hiding in plain sight. The blur effect is one way we identify each other when we’re surrounded by humans.”

“Oh my God, this is gonna be amazing! Okay. Shape-shifting, you never explained that one, and I _need_ to know,” Evan pleaded with boyish enthusiasm. It was so goddamn endearing Connor had to check the urge to kiss him again.

“Let me just run down a quick list of assumptions.” Connor cleared his throat dramatically, earning a chuckle from Evan. “Garlic, crucifixes, holy water: no damage. Stakes: gotta try harder, bro. Beheading: yep, you’re dead. Fire: avoid it. Superhuman strength: check. Heightened senses: oh yeah, major fucking adjustment, you’ve been warned. Control shadows and mist: one of my favorites. We can also, like, hop from shadow to shadow to avoid being seen. Shape-shifting: yes - mist, bats, and wolves. Not used much in modern times, though, according to Ambrosius. Apparently, the Dark Ages was the best time for that.”

Connor graced him with a cheeky grin, dusting his hands theatrically. “That’s most of the folklore, pretty sure. There are other things, too, that I’ll show you. Any other burning questions?”

Tapping a finger to his chin, Evan smiled. “Mhm. Just one though.” He waited for Connor’s cocked eyebrow before continuing. “What’s a guy gotta do to get a kiss from his hot vampire boyfriend?”

Shadow stepping, Connor closed the distance in an instant with a smirk. “Boyfriend?”

The bassy rumble of his voice sent shivers of want up Evan’s spine, but he kept his tone light when he replied. “Partner? Eternal life-mate? Forever young companion? Supernatural spouse?”

Pressing his lips into a thin line, Connor tried to rein in his amusement, but the mischievous glint in Evan’s eyes made it impossible. 

“I can’t believe you came up with those on the fly!” he crowed amid their peals of laughter.

Resting his hands on Evan’s hips when they calmed, Connor said, “If you want a label, I can think of one. _Bonded_. It’s permanent and is basically our version of getting married.”

Lifting his gaze to Connor’s, scarlet trailing under his collar, he whispered, “Are you asking me to marry you?”

“Yeah, I am,” Connor breathed. “Not like immediately, of course, and only if you’re sure. There is no reversing it. I don’t want you to regret it later.”

“ ‘You have me. Until every last star in the galaxy dies. You have me,’ ” Evan ardently professed, unbothered by Connor’s fingers digging mercilessly into his flesh. “I fell in love with you two years ago, Connor. Which I _know_ is crazy, but it’s true. I knew I’d never feel the same about anyone else who might wander into my life. I wasn’t expecting it to be the very one I wanted, but fate has an ironic sense of humor.”

“Indeed, she does,” Connor agreed. “You are everything I didn’t think I was allowed to have. Keeping tabs on you over the last year and a half allowed me to see even more of who you are. And yeah, I know how creepy that sounds, but I wasn’t sure how you’d react if I showed up at your window six months after my funeral. There was never a _good time_ , y’know?”

“I know,” Evan reassured, rubbing soothing circles on the nape of his neck. “I get it. I needed a little distance between events.”

“You’re not mad at me?” he asked nervously. “I invaded your privacy.”

Evan burrowed his face in Connor’s shirt, snuggling as close as possible, and breathed in the crisp spiciness of his scent. “No, I’m not mad. I encroached on yours, too, when I went through your things. Even the _supposed_ dead should be allowed their secrets. Fair is fair. I’m too happy to be angry right now, honestly. I don’t give a damn because you’re here and you actually _care_ about me. Like, you have for years and that means so much to me.”

Connor buried his nose in Evan’s hair with a contented sigh. “Thank fuck. Of course, I care about you, Evan, you're amazing. I’m so glad this worked out. You have no idea how freaked out I was to finally see you. I mean, maybe you do, since I acted crazy at first, but -”

Giggling softly, Evan tightened his hold. “Stop worrying about it. Let me have this moment, asshole.” Connor snorted and mumbled an apology, basking in the tranquil cocoon of filtered moonlight with the one who saw all parts of his personality and wanted him anyway.

As a vampire, time was irrelevant, but this slow passage of minutes was sacred. It was a beginning. The start of a new journey - one they would embark on together. Hopeful and precious, full of tenderness and love. It was theirs, and neither of them was in any rush to end it.

Pulling away reluctantly after several minutes, Evan asked, “What now?”

Thumbing his cheeks, Connor said, “Now, you die.”

Nodding thoughtfully, Evan pursed his lips as he ran through his options. Overdose would be easy enough with his various medications. There were razor blades in the bathroom and belts in his closet. He couldn’t leave the house to throw himself out of a tree again since his body needed to be found and buried before his transformation.

Frowning, Connor suggested, “You could always disappear instead, Evan. Everyone would assume you ran away or jumped off a bridge.”

“No, I have to die at home. I can’t just up and leave like my dad. And even though it will suck, believing I’m dead will give Mom closure. Plus, we won’t have to worry about my face appearing on any missing person’s reports,” Evan reasoned.

“True,” he conceded. Running a hand along his face, Connor blew out a sharp breath. “Fuck, well, okay. Since we’re apparently morbid weirdos who talk about suicide like it’s normal, how do you want to go out?”

Yanking open the drawer of his nightstand, he pulled out two orange pill bottles and rattled them in reply. Connor smiled weakly, but it didn’t hide the apologetic pity in his eyes.

Pointing his finger in mock seriousness to his newly minted boyfriend, Evan said, “Uh uh, none of that. We agreed to this and I’m not changing my mind. You’re worth everything to me, Connor, but especially this. Eternity with my favorite person? Hell yeah.” Snapping his fingers in irritation, Evan grumbled, “What’s that quote from your collection? About choosing someone over and over again?”

“'You. It will always be you… If I had the choice between you and a million things I’ve always wanted, I would choose you every single time,'” Connor whispered by rote.

Flames licked along Connor’s nerves in response to Evan’s brilliant smile. The urge to change Evan and complete their Bond suddenly all-consuming, lengthening his canines and blowing his pupils with the promise of a mate. Not just any mate - Evan. Digging his nails into his palms, he beat back his animalistic reaction with difficulty. Evan read the tension in his body and thankfully gave him the space he needed to regain his composure.

“Sorry,” Connor rasped, breathing deeply. “I was thinking about… well, I’ll explain when you wake up. I’m afraid I’ll go feral again if I talk about it right now.”

“That’s fine,” Evan agreed easily. “We have all the time in the world.”

Sharing a smile, they set to work composing a simple letter for Heidi and finalizing their plans. Connor sent a text to Ambrosius explaining he’d finally approached Evan, and that they intended to Bond. He promised to be in town within twelve hours to help Connor monitor Evan while he slept through his transformation and eventual awakening. Then the trio would head to the Montana property, which was isolated enough for the newest member of the family to settle into his immortal life in peace. If worse came to worse, they could cross into Canada for a while. While Ambrosius didn’t foresee any issues, he was the type to have seven alternative strategies for any eventuality. Which explained how he’d survived for 2,500 years and counting.

There were details Connor did not share with Evan regarding the logistics of their suicide deception, such as the undead medical examiner called in for cases like this. A long-time friend of Ambrosius’ who performed Connor’s “autopsy” two years ago. Dagny used human blood to run his toxicology screens and didn’t replace his blood with formaldehyde, which would have stopped his transformation. Though Evan's Jewish traditions prohibited that step, it was wise to have one of their own overseeing the process to ensure there were no mistakes.

But it was still imperative that Evan follow through with the overdose, otherwise the beginning stages of his change would be excruciating. Some vampires who were fully alive during their turning lived with residual trauma, suffering for hundreds of years before adjusting to their new state. Others never recovered. They were the ones responsible for the horror stories of creatures who stalked the night and decimated villages until not a soul remained within. From their scarred psyches, the first grisly folktales of their kind were born.

Connor didn’t want that to happen to Evan. And he definitely wouldn’t tell him about it beforehand. He didn’t need to know until later… much, much later, preferably.

“So, Ambrosius knew about me?” Evan asked with a pretty blush, pulling Connor out of his macabre reverie.

Coughing in embarrassment, Connor murmured, “Yeah. At first, he wasn’t happy when I told him what I was doing, but he knew how I felt about you even before I left California. I don’t think it surprised him. He’s sired enough progeny over two millennia to have seen it all, or so he claims.” Smiling fondly, he glanced at Evan, “Don’t worry, you’ll like him, I promise. You know I don’t like just anyone, either.”

“I believe you,” he replied, popping open the first pill container. “You’ll be there when I wake up though, right?”

Sitting beside him on the bed, Connor pulled him close for a deep kiss. “I’m not leaving your side, babe. I’ll be lurking wherever you are. You won’t be alone for a second.”

Sighing in relief, Evan murmured, “Okay. I’m ready.” Kissing him once more, Evan breathed against Connor’s lips. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, Evan. So goddamn much,” Connor said, voice cracking under the weight of the three words he carried for years in his chest. Too afraid of rejection to approach the shy teen at school and strike up a conversation, deluding himself into believing Evan wouldn’t want to be friends. He didn’t dare hope for more because it seemed too far fetched and yet, here they were. For the first time in a long time, something like peace smoothed the jagged edges of his soul.

Shaking a handful of pills into his palm, Evan smiled. “Forever.”

Swallowing the medicine dry, he forced himself to gulp each fistful until the bottle was empty. Gripping his thigh, Connor heard Evan’s heart kick into overdrive when his frantic brain realized there was a problem. Connor stopped him when he reached for the second bottle.

“That’s enough to do the job, babe,” he murmured kindly. “Besides, my blood is what will really kill you, in a sense. Lay down, okay? I’ll have you drink soon.”

Curling into a ball, Evan groaned as the pills ate his stomach lining, leaching through soft tissue and mucous membranes to poison his bloodstream. Connor gently cradled his head in his lap, running his fingers soothingly through Evan’s sweat-drenched hair as guilt gnawed his bones with every stilted cry that passed his lips.

“I’m sorry,” Connor whispered. “We have to wait a little longer. Gotta have one foot solidly in the grave. I’m so sorry, babe. I love you and I’m so damn proud of you. I’m here. You’re not alone.”

Clutching Connor’s calf with a shiver, Evan gasped brokenly, “Sing to me… or something. Voice… comforting.”

“I can’t sing for shit,” he quipped weakly, “but I’ve got so many fucking quotes in my head. I swear you’ll be sick of Shakespeare when you wake up, Evan. How about a sonnet to start?

Like as the waves make towards the pebbled shore,

So do our minutes hasten to their end;

Each changing place with that which goes before,

In sequent toil all forwards do contend.

Nativity, once in the main of light,

Crawls to maturity, wherewith being crown’d,

Crooked elipses ’gainst his glory fight,

And Time that gave doth now his gift confound.

Time doth transfix the flourish set on youth

And delves the parallels in beauty’s brow,

Feeds on the rarities of nature’s truth,

And nothing stands but for his scythe to mow:

And yet to times in hope my verse shall stand,

Praising thy worth, despite his cruel hand.”

Evan’s head lolled toward him, summer sky gaze glassy and eclipsed by black, his overworked heart slamming erratically against his ribs. Faintly squeezing Connor’s leg, he mouthed, “Please.”

Unable to watch him suffer any longer, Connor ripped open his wrist with his teeth, careful to not get foreign blood on the bedding. Dribbling a sufficient amount in Evan’s mouth, he massaged his throat to help him choke down the searing liquid.

Arching violently off the bed, Connor pinned him in place and sealed a hand over his mouth as he convulsed. The shock of the drugs and vampiric blood incinerating his humanity and rewriting his DNA triggering a grand mal seizure. Muttering a thousand apologies with his eyes screwed shut, Connor exhaled raggedly when Evan finally flatlined. Only a couple of minutes passed from start to finish, but it felt like hours.

Jesus fucking Christ. He’d never do this ever again. How the fuck Ambrosius sired so many over the millennia he failed to understand.

The utter silence in the absence of Evan’s heartbeat was deafening and terrifying. He knew logically that a drop of his blood was enough to guarantee success, but seeing the boy he loved sprawled limp and lifeless filled him with unnerving doubt. What if their plan worked _too_ well?

Ridiculous. Impossible. Fate meant for them to be together, and so they would. There was no other answer. Connor refused to accept any less.

Closing Evan’s eyes with trembling fingers, Connor quickly staged the rest of the scene. Uncapping the second bottle, he put it in Evan’s hand, spilling them over the edge of the bed onto the floor. Wiping his mouth of any remnants of crimson, he rolled him into a fetal position before settling in beside him to begin his vigil.

* * *

“We don’t have to do this, y’know?” Connor said.

Evan gave him a bored look over the top of his book in their secluded corner of the bustling cafe. Connor’s hair was swept back in a stylish bun and he tried not to ogle the elegant column of his exposed throat, but Evan knew by the smug smirk on his Bonded’s face he wasn’t successful.

Rolling his eyes when Connor snorted in victory, Evan replied, “Yes, we do. It’s been twenty years, babe. It’s closure. Besides, I want to see them, just for a minute. I know you do, too.”

Nodding coolly in concession, he returned to his anthology. A black chipped nail tapping the well-worn spine the only indication of his anxiety. Without looking up from his novel, Evan threaded their free hands together and thumbed calming circles across his knuckles.

"Merci, mon soleil," Connor murmured with a squeeze.

"Tout pour toi, mon prince," Evan smiled. "Je pense qu'il est temps de retourner sur la Côte d'Azur."

"Oui," Connor hummed thoughtfully. "Nous prendrons des dispositions après avoir terminé ici." Glancing out the window, he closed his book and Evan followed suit. “Come on, we have to get ready.”

The cafe owner waved in slow motion as the pair slid unnoticed into the crush of late afternoon customers. Tipping their heads in reply, they boosted their psychic defenses, making their faces immediately forgettable to anyone who looked at them. In the hotel room close to their destination, they quickly traded their Euro-casual style for their signature high school attire.

“Holy shit. I am experiencing serious deja vu,” Evan chuckled, tugging his khakis and striped polo awkwardly in the mirror.

Nose crinkled in distaste, Connor crossed his arms sullenly over his chest. “Christ, talk about whiplash. Why didn’t someone tell me I looked like the fucking Grim Reaper?” he grumbled.

“Because you would have thrown them out of a third-story window, most likely,” Evan stated dryly. Connor narrowed his eyes in accusation but didn’t argue. There was no point - they both knew he was right. Sighing heavily, Connor freed his hair and fluffed it out with his hands, hiding the cartilage piercings he didn’t have decades ago. Smiling encouragingly, Evan took his hand.

“Let’s do this,” Connor urged.

Flitting between the lengthening shadows under the trees to save time, they reached the edge of the property line as the sun began its descent in the quiet neighborhood. Under their shady vantage point, they shared a nervous glance while a middle-aged woman chased her young sons in a raucous game of tag.

“Connor, you don’t push when you tag someone, sweetie,” she laughed from the ground.

“Sorry, Mommy,” he giggled, doubling back to help her stand.

He was blessed with his namesake’s dark curls and cheeky grin. The second child was a year or so younger, hair closer in coloration to Zoe’s chestnut before time highlighted it with gray. It was already apparent they would be tall and lean, another dominant Murphy trait, despite their Kleinman lineage.

“Alright, boys, time to go inside and wash up for dinner. Daddy will be home soon. And Connor, be sure to help Adin scrub _all_ the dirt from under his nails, please.” Evan sucked in a startled breath with their youngest nephew’s name. Connor’s eyebrows shot into his hairline and he glanced at Evan in concern, who nodded reassuringly in reply.

“Okay,” they yelled in tandem, darting through the French door.

Tugging firmly on their clasped hands, Evan jerked his chin to the spot on the edge of the yard they’d chosen for this moment. On silent feet, they stepped boldly into position as twilight descended, casting them in perfect silhouette. She wasn’t looking in their direction and they were rapidly losing the light. Amplifying his voice, Connor whispered her name on the breeze.

Whipping her head around in surprise, she caught sight of them at the fence-line and covered her mouth with a gasp. The sun dipped on the horizon, bathing them in gold, revealing their small smiles and clasped hands, wavering like a mirage through her tears. The patio door opened and in unison they raised their hands in farewell to a stunned Jared and sobbing Zoe, disappearing into the protecting shadows before Jared could blink.

Concealed in their veil of darkness, they watched Zoe sink to her knees while Jared wrapped her tenderly in his arms. “I saw them! They were right there! Did you see them, too? Please tell me I’m not crazy. Tell me you saw them, Jared.”

“No, sweetheart, you’re not crazy. I saw them clear as day. My God, they looked exactly the same. It took me back twenty years,” Jared muttered, staring at the fence in near-religious awe.

Clutching him tightly, she whispered, “I think they came to say goodbye. They found each other, and they seemed happy. Oh God, I hope they’re happy, wherever they are.”

Brushing her hair out of her face, Jared pressed a soft kiss to her forehead and whispered, “I think they are, Zo. I really think they are finally happy and no one deserves that more than they do.”

Drying her eyes, she smiled faintly and stumbled to her feet. “Yeah, they do. Come on, we better see what the boys are up to. We can’t leave them unsupervised for long or they’ll flood the downstairs bathroom again.”

Jared rubbed his temples and groaned. “Damn Murphy genes. I swear, their penchant for mayhem does _not_ come from the Kleinman side,” he deadpanned. Doubling over into shrill hysterics intended to lighten the moment, Zoe patted his cheek in gratitude when she straightened before slipping indoors leaving Jared in the yard with a bright grin.

His smile faltered, and his shoulders drooped when she left. Pulling off his glasses, he swiped the back of his hand across his eyes and stared at the fence again. “Goodbye, Evan. Bye, Connor. Take care of each other. I’ve got Zoe and the boys and I swear not to fuck it up like I did with you,” he whispered. Rapping his knuckles on the doorframe, a nervous tic Evan recognized, Jared entered the house and locked the door.

A few moments of heavy silence passed before either of them moved.

“Oh my God,” Evan breathed, boring holes in the barrier. “Did that just happen?”

Nodding dumbly, Connor cleared his throat, but it wavered despite his efforts. “Yeah, yeah, it did. We officially said goodbye.” Turning to Evan with wide eyes, he murmured, “Kleinman - Jared - used your Hebrew name. _Fuck_ , babe.”

“I know,” Evan croaked. “I didn’t think he cared enough. I’m not surprised Zoe named the oldest after you. And damn, he’s your clone, for the record. But me? I didn’t see that coming.”

Warmth blossomed in Evan’s gut in response to Jared’s commemoration of him. They were remembered. They were respected. They were loved. They would live on through their family and that was enough. It was more than enough.

They stood sentry in the yard until the last vestiges of light faded from orange to purple to navy to onyx and the coolness of the night roused them from their watch. With their task complete and closure granted on both sides, it was time to leave. For good. Their family was tethered to a mortal life, and they had their own.

Raising their joined hands to his lips, Connor pressed a lingering kiss to Evan’s skin. Abyssal eyes held his gaze and a thousand unspoken words passed between them.

Smiling brilliantly in the dark, Connor said, “C’mon. The Riviera is beautiful this time of year.” Laughing, Evan followed him into the welcoming night. A choice he would make time and time again without regret.

**Author's Note:**

> The title is a play on Shakespeare’s “As You Like It” Act 2, Scene 7 line “All the world’s a stage.”
> 
> Ambrosius' name is derived from the Greek word ‘Ambrosios’ meaning ‘immortal.’ He chose it for himself after his turning. [ Name found here](https://parenting.firstcry.com/articles/55-roman-names-for-baby-boys/)
> 
> Illuminae quote - Amie Kaufman
> 
> The Chaos of Stars - Kiersten White
> 
> Sonnet 60 - William Shakespeare
> 
> Evan's Hebrew name "Adin" means “gentle” [Find it here](https://www.kveller.com/jewish-baby-name/adin/)


End file.
